


War of the Walls

by flecksofpoppy



Series: Poppy's Adventures in Night Ficcing [35]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Background Erwin/Fuck Budd(y/ies), Background Relationships, Humor, M/M, Sexual Humor, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 12:43:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10334981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flecksofpoppy/pseuds/flecksofpoppy
Summary: For example, loud sex is on the list of unacceptable noise violations, because it represents a pure lack of consideration, and Levi figures he pays way too much to live and let live in a building with brass elevators.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wingsofbadass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingsofbadass/gifts).



> LOL thank you to Riema who gave me the prompt: "Erwin is the noisy neighbor who always has too loud sex. Levi loses his patience and goes to rip him a new asshole. But then "oh no, he's hot"
> 
> This got a little longer than I first intended.

Levi has lived in the worst shit holes in creation--boarding houses with rooms for rent by the week, dilapidated Victorian homes cut up into boxes for a rotating cast of drunk college students, apartments with holes in the floor, multiple roommates. 

And then there was the time the bathtub fell through the ceiling. 

But it was that, or cohabitate with the one blood relation he had. Kenny, an uncle most recently out on parole (at least that Levi had last heard), already looking to get back into the same unsavory activities that sent him to jail in the first place.

So unless he wanted to get into his uncle’s illegal racket schemes, Levi was relegated to living in shit holes.

Then, unexpectedly, in his spate of odd jobs, he landed a pretty good one.

Rich people like things clean— _really_ clean. And if there’s one thing Levi is good at, it’s being thorough. However, while most of his friends (countable on one hand) and acquaintances assume it’s because he’s a neat freak, it’s more than that.

Levi likes details—the way polished silverware looks when it matches, how oak floorboards smell after being properly oiled and cleaned, the angle of side tables aligned properly with the surrounding furniture, windows that aren’t just clean, but sparkling and free of grime even in the corners of the frames. 

He got a reputation, and subsequently, procured some very high profile clients; he now both cleans and employs other people to clean for him.

When he could finally afford a proper apartment in a nice part of town, in a building that was respectable enough that the doorman would probably wave someone like Kenny away as loitering riff-raff (and Levi too, once upon a time), he took great pride in it.

Or, to quote one of his only friends, took to “feng shui-ing the shit out of it” (Hanji has a way with words).

Now, that being said, although Levi is particular, he’s also realistic. But he figures that if he’s going to pay this much to live in such a classy place, then expecting some of his pet peeves to be respected is what residents in a building like this would consider normal decorum.

Pet peeve #1: mud in the elevator.

The elevator is old-fashioned brass, and Levi appreciates it. It makes him feel clean, and it’s always shined up enough to be reflective due to the vigilant maintenance staff (another reason he knows it’ll be life or death before he gives up this building—he _belongs_ here).

This is also how he first encounters the presence of a new neighbor who he hates before ever even seeing the man.

It’s raining one late afternoon, and coincidentally, Levi’s day off. One nice thing about running your own business is the ability to make a schedule, and Levi’s never been particularly good at following orders.

“What the hell?” he blurts as he walks into the building, spotting a trail of foul, muddy footprints that have marred the immaculate lobby floor.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Ackerman,” comes Petra’s voice, the front door attendant who’s sweet enough that you’d never know she also works security for the building. “Our new tenant doesn’t know the rules and—” 

“And tracked all this shit in,” Levi finishes in monotone, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t apologize to _me_ ,” he declares, looking up at her. “This ‘new tenant’ should apologize to _you_.” He sniffs, and is relatively sure he can sense some trace of dog shit in the mess. “And to me,” he concedes for good measure.

Levi watches as some poor cleaner with a bucket and mop appears from behind the desk, slowly starting to mop up the mess. 

“What floor is he on?” Levi frowns.

“He’s in 2B.”

Levi sighs; of course, right next door.

That night, he leaves a note for his idiotic neighbor, neatly tacking it to the door so anyone passing can read it if they’re nosy enough.

_To, tenant 2B - Wipe your feet before you track dog shit in here. -L. Ackerman, #2C_

He’s half expecting a knock, but it never comes; to his satisfaction, the next time it rains, there aren’t any tracks up the beautiful gleaming elevator.

In fact, when it rains a week later, he encounters a very odd sight when he enters the hallway to his apartment.

On the floor, there’s a basket, with a note.

_Dear Mr./Ms./Mrs./Mx./Miss Ackerman, I apologize profusely for the footprints. It won’t happen again. Please accept this as an apology. I hope you like fruit. --E. Smith, #2B_

It’s a fruit basket, and if Levi’s not mistaken, it’s not just the usual assortment of shitty melons and strawberries.

“What the fuck,” he asks himself, more incredulous than pissed off. “Is that a pomegranate?”

He immediately looks over at the door of his neighbor, expecting it to open at any moment to explain the bizarre gesture, but nothing happens. He does note that there’s a new mud mat in front of E. Smith’s door, and he scowls when he sees two muddy rain boots on top of it, still covered in muck that’s drying quickly. 

“I _deserve_ a pomegranate for putting up with this shit,” he murmurs to himself, frowning mildly as he makes his way into his own apartment.

At least the bastard is thoughtful. And whether he wants to admit it or not, Levi has to admit he’s sort of impressed with the attention to detail, and the fact that it’s weirdly classy.

This is how Levi concludes that the mystery neighbor is at least 70 years old, and doesn’t think about it again. 

*

Pet peeve #2 for Levi: noise.

Fellow building tenants with muddy feet, wet umbrellas, obnoxious small dogs, or screaming babies are all to be expected. The occasional quarrel of a couple through the wall, or the thud of a toddler running back and forth an apartment—these are all standard things, and Levi knows better than anyone than no man is an island.

Unfortunately, some people break these rules fragrantly. Levi certainly doesn’t count himself in the ranks of people who respect decorum out of fear; he just _likes_ manners.

For example, loud sex is on the list of unacceptable noise violations, because it represents a pure lack of consideration, and Levi figures he pays way too much to live and let live in a building with brass elevators.

He has to give Mr. E. Smith credit for stamina at least, as what is undoubtedly a headboard bangs the wall that he shares with his neighbor over and over. Levi also revises his previous assumption about Mr. Smith’s age; given the sounds, the voices, and the length of the performance, he’s now assuming the next door tenant is probably some 20-something shit for brains with a trust fund, pissing away his fortune with sex and probably drugs. Who else comes home in the middle of the day covered in mud? (Besides Levi, of course.)

The violent thudding continues for half an hour, accompanied by an impressive chorus of moans and borderline screaming which only seems to be getting louder—Levi learns, much to his chagrin since he had no interest in knowing, that “E” stands for “Erwin”—and finally, he’s had it.

The roasted petite potatoes and chicken with rosemary he’s just about to bite into for the first time is returned to his plate, and he neatly places tinfoil over it to keep it hot.

He just as neatly marches over to the wall, scowling, before making a fist and giving three sharp thuds. Levi can hit pretty hard, given his history and the strength in his forearms built up from scrubbing.

The noise immediately dies, and he hears something that sounds like a muffled curse. _Good_ , he thinks, striding toward the door, _enough._

He doesn’t stop there, though, opening his own door to stride over to his neighbor’s and knock boldly. He’s not quite as loud this time as he raps on the door, since he doesn’t want to start an outright brawl; he figures it’s much faster and more effective with a verbal attack that’s quick and lethal, gets the point across, and doesn’t allow for further discussion.

The door starts to open, and Levi doesn’t even give the neighbor a chance to be defensive. 

“I don’t care who or what you’re fucking,” Levi declares, his voice calm but full of veom, “but keep it down. This isn’t a frat party.”

“Uh,” comes an awkward voice, and Levi finally takes the time to look up. And then up some more. “Sorry, I’m not…”

The guy standing in the doorway is very tall, in serious need of a razor, and sweaty. Levi scowls at him; he has to admit, he’d place the age right smack in the middle of where he’d assumed incorrectly twice.

“No, I mean, I don’t live here,” the guy explains. “Hold on, uh… Erwin is making himself decent.” He sniffs the hallway a bit, looking at Levi curiously. “Is that rosemary?”

Before Levi can remark about how very creepy this observation is, the guy disappears behind the door, leaving it open a crack; then, there’s a slightly higher pitched voice.

“Mike, who’s out there?”

“The neighbor.”

Oh.

Then, there’s a deeper, richer voice—undoubtedly not the one screaming, who Levi deduces now was probably two people—and suddenly, the source of all Levi’s irritation appears.

It doesn’t help that this Erwin guy—Erwin Smith, to put it all together now—is horrifyingly attractive. He’s tall, blond, blue eyes… he looks like a wet dream out of a magazine lying around at a doctor’s office, advertising wholesome tartan flannel shirts and expensive camping gear made for photoshoot-ready cabins.

“I’m so sorry,” Erwin says, looking down at Levi uncomfortably. “I guess I’m… louder and… muddier than I thought.”

It’s possibly the strangest thing Levi has ever heard as a response to deflect his own brand of blunt outrage, and for a moment, he’s actually rendered speechless. It doesn’t take long to recover, though.

“What the fuck?” is the first thing that comes out of Levi’s mouth, and he’s a little relieved he’s managed words at all. Regardless of the model lumberjack thing, the fact that Erwin’s covered in sweat from fucking might have been hot if it had been from _Levi_ screaming against the headboard (Levi did not just think that), but right now it’s just gross; his mussed hair makes him look completely unhinged, which would be fine if it was from Levi wrecking it from pulling (Levi did not think that either), but it’s not; and overall this guy is just repugnant.

Unbelievably, Erwin’s eyebrows actually raise as Levi curses, as if _Levi_ is the one being uncouth. And then, he fucking… smiles.

Smiles.

“Do you give fruit to all the people you piss off?” Levi blurts out.

“No.”

“Uh, Erwin?” the guy named Mike says, thankfully now wearing a shirt. “We’re going to go. Sorry for being… uh…” He hesitates, cocking his head to the side slightly, as if unsure how to continue.

“Loud,” a short-haired blonde woman finishes who Levi can now see as Erwin opens the door further. She gives a cheeky grin at both of them, and then slaps Mike on the ass.

Filed under: things Levi never needed, nor wanted, to see.

His chicken and rosemary is also getting cold, and he’s had just about enough of this threesome bullshit circus.

“Look,” he says, ignoring Mike and whoever their third friend is as they slip out the door around him, “I don’t give a rat’s ass if you want to fuck your dog or your friends or your umbrella in here, but stop with the wall banging. Got it?” Before he can take in Erwin’s response, who’s still _smiling_ like a goddamn idiot, he turns neatly on his heel, doesn’t look back, and shuts the door to his own apartment soundly.

*

A week passes, and Levi doesn’t hear from Erwin again, which he’s relieved about. He doesn’t hear any sex or headboard thudding against the wall, no muddy footprints, and not even wet boots at Erwin’s door the next time it rains.

At first, he’s relieved; but then, he’s annoyed. Never seeing a neighbor just seems odd in a building like this, where tenants politely say good morning and act like civilized people. Levi has half a mind to knock on Erwin’s door just to find out whether he’s being avoided, because that’s just as annoying as loud sex.

Well, that, and Levi has grown wildly curious about his bizarre neighbor. Who the hell sends fruit baskets, has such loud threesomes, tracks mud through a luxury building, and then has the nerve to be _that_ hot?

But there’s no reason to go knocking on the door now. Erwin has become the ideal neighbor, never around, always quiet, and never the cause of any issues.

So Levi’s really not expecting someone to come knocking at his door one uneventful weekday evening. It’s 6:00 p.m., the time most people get home from work and start making dinner for their family.

Levi doesn’t do that, even though he likes the idea of it as a routine, or a civilized way of living; sometimes, Hanji comes over, but that’s about it. He’s okay with it, though, given that he spent so much of his life fighting for personal space that now he’s rather possessive over it.

Therefore, the knock startles him. It’s a brief rap that he can tell is from two knuckles, twice, casual, as if the person on the other side is preparing to depart if there’s not an immediate answer.

“Yeah?” Levi asks, opening the door a crack and peering out. “Who—”

“Can I come in?”

Levi raises an eyebrow, but shrugs indifferently, opening the door wider. “Didn’t think I’d see you again,” he remarks nonchalantly as Erwin edges in the doorway.

Levi can tell he wants to immediately take it all in, but it’s interesting how fixes his gaze right on Levi, studying him instead of the surroundings.

His eyes are very, _very_ blue.

“Hi,” he says, closing the door behind him. “Um, I just wanted to apologize. I feel like we got off to a bad start.”

“It’s fine,” Levi retorts with a shrug, already tired of this conversation. “There’s nothing to apologize for. You stopped having loud sex and tracking in mud. That’s the end of it.”

Erwin blinks at him, and then, he does that annoying thing again—he smiles.

“Did I say something funny?” Levi demands, frowning mildly at his uninvited houseguest.

“No.” Erwin answers immediately, crossing his arms over his broad chest. He’s wearing what appears to be some dress-down casual Friday ensemble, a blue shirt and pressed slacks. They look good on him. “I’ve just never met someone so blunt before.”

“How many people have you met?” Levi retorts wryly. “Three?”

“You’re the only neighbor I’ve ever had who yelled at me for having sex.”

“Well, then all your other neighbors were pissed but too scared to say anything.”

“So, you’re not into manners.”

Levi turns to glare at Erwin, and Erwin seems to take the hint and steps back. “Of course I’m into manners. If I wasn’t into manners, I’d live in a shit hole downtown where I pay nothing. I pay _for_ manners in this building, asshole.”

Erwin immediately puts his hands up, and he’s not smiling now; he looks genuinely apologetic. “Sorry,” he replies, shaking his head, “that came out wrong.”

Levi pinches the bridge of his nose, rolling his eyes. “It’s fine. You can go, I don’t even know why you’re here.”

“Because I want to ask you to have dinner.”

Levi doesn’t miss a beat. “I don’t do fuck buddies, at least not with the neighbors.” He glares at Erwin, meeting him eye for eye. “Sorry.”

Wow, this just gets better than better.

“Oh, uh…” Erwin stammers, as if catching on, “I didn’t mean… well, it could be, but not like…”

Levi blinks; fuck his life.

“Well,” he starts, wanting to argue that asking a person to dinner clearly sounds like a come-on, but he knows very well that it doesn’t have to be. He doesn’t even know how to finish now.

Erwin seems to have regained his composure more quickly than Levi, and he points at the stove. “You’re cooking?”

“Yeah.”

“Is there enough for two.”

Annoyingly, there actually is; Levi grunts. “Yeah.”

“If I run to the store and bring a bottle of wine, do you want to have dinner together?” he asks. “Talk about… how to be better neighbors?”

Levi just stares; he has no idea what the motive is here.

“Why?” he asks bluntly, genuinely wanting to know.

Erwin blinks at him, and finally, takes the liberty of a quick glance around Levi’s immaculate apartment. “You’re the only person who’s even talked to me since I moved in here,” Erwin blurts out, and it would be awkward if it wasn’t so honest. “I’d like to actually talk to someone besides my ‘fuck buddies,’” he says, and laughs a little, “who are also my friends. We just um…”

Levi puts his hand up, shaking his head with a pained grimace that makes Erwin laugh; somehow, Levi doesn’t mind, and it surprises him. “Okay, fine. Red wine, nothing under $50.”

Dinner is, unexpectedly, enjoyable; they talk late into the night about silly things, and Levi enjoys it.

After that, Levi says good morning to Erwin when they see each other, polite, but pleasantly familiar; not like any other tenant or person Levi’s ever known. 

They say good morning a lot, until they start saying good morning before ever leaving Levi’s apartment, naked, safely in bed between sheets together.

Levi has the decency to not let the headboard bang against the wall when the new tenants of #2B move in and Erwin’s name is on his lease.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [tumblr](http://flecksofpoppy.tumblr.com/). :D


End file.
